


Death Is Only A Door

by shutter_waves_break



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Brotherly Affection, M/M, Unrequited Love, but not really...
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-18
Updated: 2013-02-23
Packaged: 2017-11-29 18:08:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/689930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shutter_waves_break/pseuds/shutter_waves_break
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robb is now Lord of Winterfell since his father left with King Robert to King's Landing.  Jon left to join the Night's Watch with their uncle Benjen.  His mother also left to discover who ordered Bran's death.  Despite duties and responsibilities he knew would fall upon him, Robb finds himself wishing fate had not intervened with their lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Within My Memories

_Death is only a door._

\- - - - - 

 

Sometimes, Robb thinks he hears footsteps down an empty passage, echoing gently on the gray stone.  By the time he looks up, the sound is gone and he tells himself he imagined it.  He looks back down at his letters, his maps, his plans, all the things that demand his attention every waking moment of every day.  The exhaustion sets in.  He tells himself this so he will not think his mind is running away with him. 

 

 _“Robb! ROBB!”_  

 _Robb blinks at his reflection in the still water and lifts his head.  He cannot remember how much time he spent out in the godswood staring out into nothing, waiting for an answer._  

_He turns his head slightly but does not need his eyes to know who calls him._

_“Your lady mother seems to think I am her fetching boy, and sent me to ‘fetch’ you so that you may come to supper.”_

_Robb groaned and massaged his eyes with his gloved fingers.  His mother, the Lady Catelyn Stark, hated her husband’s bastard more than she hated the Lannisters.  More than she hated anyone, he suspected.  But no one could voice those opinions.  Not as long as she was Lady Stark, wife to Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell.  Jon did not seem to care as much anymore; he learned it was easier for him to just bear it rather than fight her hatred with more hatred.  She left Jon alone for the most part, only sending scathing looks his way when she felt the need to be unnecessarily cruel and did not want to chastise her ‘true’ children._

_He turned his head fully and looked at Jon.  He looked like a Stark, but there was something softer in his features he could not place.  It seemed so familiar and so distant all the same.  Like he had looked upon his face before.  Robb knew it was impossible - no one knew who Jon’s mother was.  Only his father knew, and whenever anyone brought it up, the offending mouth was silenced.  Even the Lady Stark was forbidden to mention it.  That probably added to her infectious loathing of him._  

 _But Robb loved him like a true brother, and perhaps more than a true brother should love another._  

 _“I doubt she will mind if I am a few minutes late,” he muttered and turned his gaze back to the water._  

_Jon huffed.  “You may not care, but if I go back without you, she will undoubtedly assume I ignored her wishes.”_

_Robb chuckled.  “Then come, sit with me for a moment before heading back inside to face the mother wolf,” motioning to the patch of soft grass beside him._  

_At that, Jon did allow his normally broody features to twist into a smirk before settling down next to Robb.  He could feel the heat radiating from him, even through his fur cloak.  They sat in silence. Robb’s left leg bent up at the knee, his body leaned back and held up by his elbows.  Jon mimicked him except he gazed into the sky and breathed deep, shutting his eyes.  Robb looked over at the moment Jon leaned his head back on the exhale, and it took everything in him to not lick the soft skin at his neck to learn how he tasted.  Instead, he turned away and focused on his booted foot, and how close it rested to Jon’s.  And how their thighs almost touched.  One twitch of his gloved finger and it would caress Jon’s naked ones._

_He must have been staring because Jon’s boot collided into his pulling Robb out of his head and back to the ground._  

_“What were you thinking about out here? You have that look you get when you are thinking hard about something and cannot find a quick solution.”_

  _Robb’s eyes met Jon’s.  How he could read him like a book sometimes, and yet be oblivious to the want Robb had for him.  All for the better, Jon would be repulsed, as he damn well should be._  

 _“I am not one for patience as you well know.”_  

_Jon rolled his eyes.  “That I am aware of.” He sat up fully, crossing his legs and facing Robb. “But you did not answer my question?”_

_Robb sat up as well but remained facing the water.  “It is nothing you should concern yourself with, Jon. Believe me.”_

_Before Jon could respond, Robb stood and adjusted his clothes, shaking bits of grass and leaves from his cloak.  Jon remained seated and pulled up small blades of grass._

_“Come on, before my mother really loses her head thinking you drowned me, or worse,” Robb chuckled._

_Jon smiled, but it did not quite reach his solemn eyes. “Or worse… I do not want her thinking my bastard ways will corrupt her perfect son.”_

_Robb swallowed thickly as he watched Jon stand and head back towards the gray buildings they called home.  If only he knew._

 

The memory was not an unwelcome one, nor was it wanted, but he could not betray his face to his commanders as they walked into the hall to prepare for the day.  Robb had not slept well, not since becoming Lord of Winterfell, and he knew his face showed signs of weariness.  But he would sleep when this was over.  He would sleep when everyone was safe. 


	2. In My Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I am here now..."

Robb woke to the sound of Grey Wind howling, not an uncommon sound since they had left Winterfell’s walls, but tonight it sounded different.  He sat up and pulled on his tunic, sliding his feet into the cold boots by the makeshift bed.  It was not quite so cold that he could clearly see his breath in the night air.  He stepped outside his tent and noticed his guard was gone.  Instantly troubled, he retreated to retrieve his sword and found it already at his side.  He could not recall when he had done that.   

Grey Wind howled again, this time it sounded closer.  Robb drew his sword and moved silently between the tents.  It seemed deserted.  How could all of his men have left without making a sound?  It was almost as if they never existed. 

A raven startled him, landing on a stack of wooden crates. 

_Snow!_   It cawed at him.  _Snow! Snow!_

Then it flew away, down a row of tents he did not recall having been there the day before.  A wave of calm washed over him and he sheathed his sword, realizing no harm would come to him if he stayed his way.  

The path stretched long in front of him, and he could not see what lay at its end.  His feet moved faster as they sunk into the soft ground, desperate to reach the end.  Grey Wind appeared next to him, matching his long strides.  Robb looked down at his direwolf as it howled again, then watched as it morphed into a white wolf.  Before his eyes could adjust to what he had seen, his body stopped moving.   

A pool stretched out before him, smooth as glass.  In it, he saw all of Westeros as if he were a bird in the sky.  At his side sat Ghost, and unconsciously his fingers moved through the soft white fur as if the dog were his own.  He raised his eyes from the pool and gazed around him: the Winterfell godswood.  The white trunk and blood red leaves of home.   

Robb heard a sound behind him and spun, his hand on the hilt of his sword. 

“Jon…”  His hand dropped to his side. 

Jon raised his arms and chuckled.  “Surprised to see me?” He asked, as if this were a common enough occurrence.  

Robb looked around.  “Am I dreaming?” 

At that, Jon laughed.  “Of course you are!  You think Ghost would let you touch him otherwise?” The laughter reached his eyes and Robb was struck at how beautiful his half-brother was when he smiled. 

“Why am I-?” 

“Why are you here?” Jon shrugged.  “This is your dream, not mine.”  Then he vanished. 

“Jon!” Robb stepped forward, reaching for the phantom space Jon once stood. 

“Calm down, brother.  You’ll not lose me so easily.”  Jon’s hand slid around Robb’s waist pulling him down to the soft snow covered ground.  Robb expected the snow to be cold and wet under him, but a warmth crept into his body as he let himself fall.  Jon’s head was next to his, their bodies pointed in opposite directions.  He turned his head, brushing his nose against Jon’s soft black curls. 

“I thought you had taken the black,” Robb whispered, afraid to hear his own words, afraid to remember Jon actually had left Winterfell for Castle Black.

Jon turned his head and looked deep into Robb’s eyes with his own.  “I am here now…” he whispered back, his nose nudging Robb’s. 

“For how long…?” Robb’s hand to reached up to touch Jon’s skin and curl into his hair. 

Jon surged up, gazing down at Robb’s eyes before dropping the ghost of a kiss on his forehead.  Robb willed himself to remain still save for his fingers sliding across Jon’s jawline, coaxing him further.  He felt Jon’s soft breath against his lips. 

“…As long as you’ll have me…” 

The moment their lips touched, Robb felt a power coursing through him he thought forgotten.  Breathing deep, he only knew Jon.  He forgot about the war, the gods, his mother.  Jon’s arms rested on either side of Robb’s head, locking him into his kiss.  It felt awkward, kissing him upside down, but perfect and real.   

Jon broke first, a pink shade across his pale cheeks in contrast with his black eyes, his lips red and shiny.  “Robb…” 

A knot formed in Robb’s stomach.  It could not end.  “Jon…” He lifted his head and caught Jon’s mouth in another kiss, a clash of teeth and tongues, a desperate plea.   

He heard his name called again beneath the sound of crunching snow.   

“Robb…”

 

\- - - - - 

 

His body spasmed awake at the sound of his tent flap.  He was sweating, and his manhood throbbed hard between his legs. 

“Lord Stark.  The Lady Stark wishes to speak with you once you are ready.” 

Robb inhaled and looked at his guard.  _It was all a dream._   “Thank you.”  

He waited for the flap to close before falling back down on his bed, curling a hand around himself to ease the ache.  Grey Wind lay on the floor, watching him with soft eyes for a moment before setting his head back down.  He touched his tender lips before sliding two fingers into his mouth and letting his tongue caress the hard calluses.   

When he spent himself over his hand, he did not deny the face he saw over his own.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know how far or how long I plan to go with this. I am also trying to keep it as canon to the story as possible (with a few deviations with regards to character relationships). If/when I do a major turn, I will post it as such.


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